MOTHER'S SHADOW.

A iNDIAN WOMAN REMEMBERS HER CHILDHOOD AND HER MOTHER.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You want to place
Your idle thoughts
In order as
Your mother did

 

The clothes before
School. The thoughts are
Muddled; they are
As defiant

 

Children causing
Havoc by their
Behaviour.
Your lazy thoughts

 

Unsettle the
Way of your good
Behaviour.
Mother would scold

 

Such things. You are
Seeing the look
Of her eyes in
Your memory;

 

They peer at you
As eyes of an
Owl. Padma, she
Would say, her gaze

 

Taking in each
Aspect of you
From bare feet to
Covered head, you,

 

Child must think more
Clearly; the brain
Is a tool to
Be used, not a

 

Mere instrument
To be ill-used
Or put aside.
You always, as

 

A child, wanted
To be close to
Her, to have her
Arms about you,

 

But she thought you
Unruly, in
Need of order
And discipline.

 

You remember
Her small hand raised
To punish, but
Always it stayed

 

There in mid air,
Hovering as
A hawk over
Its prey. You are

 

Seeing the clothes
She wore hanging
As bright spirits
Behind the door;

 

Her hair combs and
Brushes laid there
Like abandoned
Weapons after

 

Battle. She will
Come full circle,
You will see her
Often in the

 

Mirror eyes of
A lost child’s gaze
As you walk in
Her shadow each
Dawn of the day.   

Reviews

[just rose.]

You are

Seeing the clothes
She wore hanging
As bright spirits
Behind the door;

These lines are incredible. Oh, God, well, you know why I'd love this theme anyway; it's my life. It realizes the whole abandoned child notion so well but also, that bottomless grief that expresses itself in the smallest gestures and objects -- the hovering hand, the hair comb, and the great space of silence in what was lost, expressing itself as a new beginning shadowed in each day.